


eyes are never quiet

by reindeerjumper



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Eyeliner, F/M, MFMM Smutuary, Makeup, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, i can't wait to reread this in the morning & see 9 million typos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 19:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17834525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: phryne finally manages to get jack into the antony costume.for the smutuary prompt, "makeup".





	eyes are never quiet

**Author's Note:**

> i hope? this isn't as clunky? as i think it is? i've had 2 glasses of wine, so my hemingway is showing. but, the confused part of my hemingway, because i wrote AND edited drunk. 
> 
> que serra.

It had taken some coercing, but she had done it. 

When Aunt P told her about the fancy dress party she was planning, Phryne simply knew she had to get Jack into the Antony costume she had teased him mercilessly about. It hadn’t been easy, and she had done things that Phryne-before-Jack would find deplorable, but in the end it was worth it. 

She was still surprised that, along with the gaudy armor and laurel crown, Jack had allowed her to smudge kohl around his eyes, but it probably had something to do with her warm weight in his lap as she had done so. 

He had sat in the chair in front of her vanity, his feet firmly planted on the ground, the bulge of his thighs pulling the fabric of his costume. With the kohl pencil in hand, Phryne had expertly swung her leg over his hips and lowered herself onto his legs as she watched him swallow thickly.

“Come now, Jack. It’s just for dramatic effect.”

He had snorted at that, low and graveled in the back of his throat as his weight shifted beneath her. With a slightly grimace, he had given himself a resolute shake before squaring his shoulders and allowing Phryne to begin her work. His mouth was turned down in his familiar, disapproving pout, but the blue of his eyes was trained on hers as if he were going into battle.

_ God, his eyes are beautiful. _

They were one of the first things Phryne had noticed about him. Not only were they bright, expressive, inquisitive, but they were the loveliest color...a dark Persian blue that bled into a gunmetal near the iris. She could still recall with perfect clarity the first time she had seen them,  _ him,  _ in the Andrews’ bathroom. 

As she had sat in his lap, those eyes had been watching her with soulful dislike. The pout on his lips still etched onto his face, daring her to actually go through with what she was about to do. She smirked at him. It would take more than a disapproving look from Jack Robinson to deter Phryne Fisher.

It had only taken a few moments to complete the task. Phryne was an expert in this particular wheel house, gently lining his lashes with the sharp tip of the kohl pencil. She could see the terror bubbling beneath Jack’s stoic demeanor, but it really wasn’t necessary. Yes, the tip  _ had _ been sharp, but she loved his eyes too much to accidentally poke one out.

By the time she had finished, the multifaceted blues of his eyes were magnified to breathtaking detail. She had smudged out the precise line, making his already hooded eyes look even more dramatic and mysterious, and she had felt something warm pool inside of her. Even as he blinked a few times, the irritation from the kohl making his eyes water, Phryne had found herself utterly entranced by the transformation. 

“Satisfied?” he had ground out, bringing his pointer finger up to his eye to brush away some of the irritation he had felt. 

“Ah, ah,” she chided, grabbing his wrist to pull his finger away from his eye. “You’ll muss it.”

He had smirked at that, the dimple in his cheek begging her to lick it. His eyes had glimmered in amusement as he firmly planted his hands on her hips, and she once again felt her breath catch in her throat.

“We should get going,” he had said, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. 

That had been hours ago, and between the champagne and the dancing and those damned eyes of his, she now found herself writhing on the crushed velvet cushions of Aunt P’s divan as Jack’s tongue expertly worked against her clit. 

It wasn’t the first time Phryne had locked herself and a suitor away in Aunt P’s library, but it was the first time with Jack, and oh- _ ohhh _ , it was good. A sober Jack would have never initiated something as scandalous as having his way with her in the same building as one of Aunt P’s infamous parties, but  _ this _ Jack was several champagnes deep, and maybe even a whiskey or two. 

Phryne looked down the length of her to where Jack’s head was bobbing between her thighs. His eyes were closed as the velvet of his tongue pressed and swirled against her. Even with his lashes laying against his cheeks, Phryne was completely enraptured by the sight of the smudged kohl lining his eyes. It was like being with a free-spirited Jack, one who was an actor, or maybe a bohemian poet. Phryne smirked at the thought--”bohemian” was the farthest point possible from Jack. 

It didn’t lessen the thrill, though.

Suddenly, as Phryne mused about what kind of poetry Jack would write, his eyes fluttered open and locked with hers. Even at this distance, Phryne couldn’t believe the saturated hue his irises held as he stared at her over the dips and folds of her white dress. Keeping his gaze steady with hers, Phryne felt, rather than saw, Jack’s long fingers enter her as he gave a rather expert flick of his tongue.

The sound that left her was almost embarrassing.

Her head rolled back onto the arm of the divan as she arched her back, but the small, barely coherent part of her brain urged her to look back up.  _ Look at him, don’t be a fool.  _ Phryne obeyed the muddled voice in her head, lifting herself up slightly to get a good look at Jack. He was still staring at her, his eyes boring into her as she watched his mouth move against her. The laurel crown he was still wearing was askew atop his curls, and she could see the cords of muscle in his shoulders flexing as he curled his fingers up and inside of her. 

This free-spirited, makeup wearing Jack had burrowed his way into her psyche, and it took all of Phryne’s self-control to tamp down her orgasm before it erupted out of her in an untimely manner. Her breath was coming in ragged spurts as she watched him, his eyes mischievously glinting at her from between her legs. The armor he was wearing was clunky and awkward, pressing into the soft skin of her thighs and scraping against her as he moved his fingers inside of her. 

_ Were his eyes always this blue? _

Phryne could feel the heat of her orgasm coiling low in her stomach, snaking down her thighs and tingling in her toes. She pressed her heels into Jack’s sides, trying to gain some leverage to press herself even closer to this mouth. His eyes fell shut again, his full attention now on bringing her to climax. Phryne finally allowed her head to fall back against the arm rest, her chest heaving as the sensation of Jack’s mouth and fingers completely dismantled her reserve.

His name left her mouth like the smoke following a bullet out of the barrel of a gun—a breathy wisp of a sound following the crack of her orgasm. 

As her body slumped back onto the divan, she could feel Jack’s warm weight crawling up her body. She chanced opening one eye to look at him and felt her chest flush. He was staring down at her, a boyish grin on his face making his eyes crinkle. He dipped down to claim her mouth, thoroughly exploring it with his tongue, before pulling back to look down at her.

“Well?” he said.

“You’re never allowed to wear eyeliner again,” she replied breathlessly. 

Jack didn’t have a chance to respond before she claimed his mouth with her own. She knew that the chances of him wearing eyeliner again, even with her thinly veiled threat, were slim, and she had every intention of enjoying it while she could.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i just had an existential crisis that maybe "makeup" meant, like, makeup sex? and not eyeliner? *quickly hits post*


End file.
